


Sleeping with the Storm God

by itchyfingers



Series: A little ditty 'bout Thor and Dian [2]
Category: Chris Hemsworth - Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Nightmares, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are benefits to sleeping with a god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping with the Storm God

She never told him what her dreams were about. The normal ones -the ones that involved aliens or puppies or mashed up collages of her day interspersed with famous people and long lost friends - she did. But not these dreams. Thor stood naked and surveyed Dian asleep in their bed curled up in a defensive ball, making herself as small a target as possible while shielding everything vital. She had one arm up over her head and her fingers were clenched so tightly that her hands were going to ache in the morning from her nails digging into her palms. Her elbow hid her face from him but could not hide her suffering.

He left her locked in her dreams and opened the glass doors that led out onto their small balcony and stepped out into the night. This high up the tower the wind whipped around him, stung his cheeks and enlivened his blood. He called in a storm from the sea, brought it closer, let the mistral curl around his uplifted arm like a petulant lover and dance with his hair. The electricity in the air crackled around him, prancing and straining at its halter like a high-spirited stallion, and he kept it bridled as he waited, letting the clouds gather and swirl, obscuring the heavens from his view.

Thor listened to the air, waited for that moment of balance when the clouds roiled and the winds held their breath, and when it came, let the lightning slip its reins. He sent it galloping off; the finish line was far enough distant where the thunder wouldn’t wake her but simply slip into her dreams. His heart beat out the four seconds and the echo of the clouds’ crash washed over him. Then the rain came and gave him a truer cleansing, washing away the dust and sweat of the day’s labors. He watched the skies, prodded the storm into a shape that would keep the rumble at the right distance and the rains pouring down for the rest of the night and then stepped back into his bedroom, leaving the doors open to the storm.

He went into the bathroom to grab a towel and dry off. By the time he reemerged, the weather had already worked some of its magic and Dian’s body had uncurled a bit. Her hands were no longer crabbed into white knuckles and straining tendons. He threw back the blankets and rearranged the pillows she had substituted for him so he could form himself to her, curling around her like a shell coiled around something soft and vital. Her breathing smoothed and the rigid bones that held her imprisoned in fear melted in the heat of his body. She moved in her sleep slowly, gently, the way that otters move as they bob in the lilting waves of the wild ocean gentled by the rocky embrace of a bay, and rested her head on his bicep, pulled his arm tighter around her, and slept in the heart of the storm.


End file.
